Edgelords — A Poem

When we say
“I work alone”
how many grimdark swordfighters
and half-demon, half-angels
and extremely non-sparkly vampires
all say
“I work alone”
and realize:
there’s so much space to fill
so we must spread out
hoping we turn the next wave back.
And most of you degrease after your teens,
find jobs, find love, find homes, all the things
we never keep because there are no white picket fences
under an ocean of blood,
but no edgelord gets to save everyone,
so every time we turn around, count our ranks for losses–
and here they are, a few more twenty-somethings who work alone,
like us,
because no one wanted to work with them in the first place.
All of you on the outside, writing the damn comics, get it backwards:
it’s not because we hate people or futile existence
that we say
“I work alone,”
it’s because too many of us wind up in this dead-end grind,
and we want better for you, so when we accept a new member,
it’s not that they won us over–we were with them from the start–
no, they too lost their battles
against the darkness within,
and now they join our tattered throng
because it’s the only way to keep fighting the war.


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